Bits and Pieces
by WhiteWinters
Summary: Drabbles.  Chalked full of USUK.  What's not to love?
1. Cheek

_**Cheek **_

England smoothed the covers over America's small form - too small, almost, for the large, important looking bed he was sleeping on. His eyes fondly slid once more over the wiggling lump of Nation and he then pushed himself off of the mattress, his knee leaving an indent. He hadn't taken two steps before the child was calling for him to return, as was what usually happened.

England would be lying if he said he didn't want an excuse to return to the bedside.

"Yes, my lad?"

America shifted and glanced up at his caretaker before his eyes flitted back down to stare at anything but. He cleared his throat; stammered and England had to refrain from smiling at the blatant embarrassment.

"U-um. I...I was wondering...E-England. Could you, uhm, do that thing that you're good at on my face? Y'know... With your fingers." Here, the boy's face flushed slightly. England wondered why.

"Of course, dear – there is no need to get so flustered. Will it help you to sleep?"

America nodded and closed his eyes, waiting for England to begin. Honestly...such impatience.

England sat down on the bed and leaned over America, marvelling at how outspoken he could be when he wanted to and how shy he was at any sign of intimacy. Ah, well... Children and their naivety. He placed one hand flat on the bed sheet on the other side of America to balance himself and proceeded to run his other one oh so delicately along the lad's facial features.

Across his nose – his closed eyelids – his lips – his forehead - his still reddened cheeks, right and then left. His hands swirled to and fro, as soft as the sails he would soon sail away under, not to return for many years.

America sighed in contentment, the little, unconscious noise interrupting England from his slightly depressing thoughts and startling him into stopping. Only when the lad raised his eyebrows expectedly did he continue.

How he would miss caressing these cheeks – this face of the only other Nation who truly cared for him.

England stayed where he was for far longer than he hed previously intended, waiting for the boy to fall asleep under his watchful gaze.

_AN - I can't seem to stop writing USUK. That's a good thing, though. :P Enjoy! Rated T for anything that might crop up in the future._


	2. Exhausting

_**Exhausting **_

"Arthuuuuuuur! Arthur Arthur Arthur Arthur!"

Alfred was, at the moment, stampeding across his fellow Nation's manicured backyard, a worm cupped in his overly large hands. He was totally planning to offer the Briton tea ('cause when is there ever _not _tea in Arthur's hands) and then put the worm in the cup, saucer, mug, thing-y – cold water of course; he didn't want to actually kill the thing.

_His reaction is gonna be so bomb!_

Alfred shouldered the screen door open and dropped the worm into the first cup he could find, washed his hands, and wandered the house in search of his elusive Arthur. Probably still working for some reason. When would he ever learn that it was impossible to work with the awesome Alfred in the house?

He pushed open to door to Arthur's office and sucked in a breath in order to be able to shout his name loud enough –

_Oh. Haha!_

Instead of a prissy, British-y, flustered, work-a-holic, Alfred walked into the room to find a smooshed-up Arthur face pressed to the surface of his desk – eyes closed and breath deep and even. Huh.

America hesitated for a second before sauntering into the room and over to the desk, gently easing Arthur's head from it and moving the papers from underneath (why isn't there drool; that would've been hilarious). He then swivelled the chair around and slid one hand behind his back and the other under his knees, scooping him up and cradling him to his broad chest. This sudden movement, of course, caused Arthur to awaken – and quite suddenly at that.

"You git, unhand me," was followed by a loud, large yawn which Alfred couldn't help but guffaw at.

"No way, dawg – you need a nap. It's not so bad. Just think – if you were awake, you'd have a worm in your tea."

Arthur frowned against Alfred's shirt, but was unable to ask precisely what the bloody hell this lad was on about due to him being dumped unceremoniously onto his bed while Alfred ripped the covers from underneath him and threw them on top of his helpless figure.

"Mmm'kay – scootch over, man – I'm comin' in with ya." To Arthur's horror, Alfred kicked his shoes off, which echoed loudly after bouncing off of the wall. Not even sparing the potentially damaged wall a second glance, Alfred leaned over Arthur to shut the blinds and then lifted up the covers to crawl in beside his partner.

Arthur muttered loudly about obnoxious Nations and un-necessary force and not needing to sleep, at which Alfred laughed loudly again.

"Dude – if you, as in you, _England _– fall asleep while doing your...whatever work you do that's so 'important' (Alfred made quotation fingers right up in Arthur's face), then it's kinda obvious you need to sleep. And what better excuse is there for me to cuddle with you?"

England sighed and grudgingly moved closer into America's open arms, stopping himself from trying _once more_ to set the lad's standards straight.

"You're absolutely exhausting, I'll have you know," Arthur scoffed, his eyes closing automatically.

"Tell me somethin' I don't know babe."

"Do try to refrain from calling me that."

"Nah – I don't think I will. Go to sleep."

_AN - Hurrrr. :)_


	3. Little

_**Little**_

America had been awake for a long time. Seriously, why the heck would he waste time sleeping when he could be looking – okay, staring – at his most awesome, intense, epic-est boyfriend (!) ever? 'Cause England was all that and more. Totally, hands-down. Someday, America thought to himself, he would be brave enough to say it out loud and clear. But now, he was content to be able to study the sleeping, slender body beside him to his heart's content.

A grin blossomed across America's face, not a trace of tiredness remaining from the night before.

He raised an arm from underneath the sheets and after a slight hesitation, decided to run his fingers across England's soft, (scarred) warm (marred) skin. Just 'cause he could be spontaneous like that. His fingers danced feather-light, dusting over the Nation's shoulders, neck, jaw line, cheek bones, eyebrows…more eyebrows.

A sudden start and America's blue eyes were quickly met with green as England blinked up at him, only just awakened by the lad's touch. The younger Nation's smile dimmed and shrank, but lost none of its charm and sincerity. His index and middle fingers moved upwards to comb through England's messy blond hair.

They stayed like that. Silent for once – free of bickering, teasing, arguing. But maybe, in the long run, the teasing, bickering and arguing was for the better – something they were good at getting into and, if _absolutely necessary,_ giving in to. But for now, silence reigned. Until –

"Y'know, you're kinda small, Artie." America winked and didn't seem to realize that speaking his mind could potentially be offensive. Luckily, England had grown tolerant of this behaviour. Well, maybe not tolerant. Resigned to it, more like – even when America ploughed on, regardless. As he was doing now.

"Which is weird 'cause your eyebrows are so friggin' big. You know how big they are right? 'Cause I can come up with a ridiculous exaggeration just for you – to prove it to you, ya know."

England gave America's hand lingering by his face a good smack and narrowed his eyes – glaring at the boy lying beside him.

"Or I can supply a good whack to that great big head of yours. Goodness knows you deserve it, you git."

"Haha! You're head's so little, I'd probably miss it if _I_ tried that. Since you'd totally deserve that…too."

England raised said brows in disbelief and sighed laboriously as if he would do anything to be rid of the blatant annoyance in front of him.

"I do hope you realize that that was one of the worst come-back's that I've ever heard."

"Hey. It was awesome and you know it. Don't even deny my All-American come-backs, dawg. They're golden and you, um, _know it."_

England huffed, closed his eyes briefly and re-opened them, when they swept across America's hair, up and down Nantucket and back towards his eyes. "Golden, indeed… You're just lucky that I'm not in the mood to be witty just yet."

America 'hmm'd' in the back of his throat. "All right! My lucky day." And he awarded England's blessing with a good-morning kiss.


	4. Connection

_**Connection**_

Alfred watched Arthur from a distance, watched how he stormed about muttering and mumbling to himself, while still managing to give off a certain...delicate aura. He simply watched his partner take out his frustration on the kettle, setting it down curtly upon the stove - on the teabags – all but ripping one out from its package and tossing it into a mug.

Arthur, having taken the milk out of the fridge, now leaned back against the counter, closing his eyes and, although Alfred couldn't hear it, let out a long sigh. Alfred bit his bottom lip in bewilderment, berating himself for whatever it was he had said to make Arthur distance himself so, and scolding himself again for not even knowing what the heck he had said to glean such a reaction in the first place. Second place? Bajillionth place?

Hmm.

Damn.

The more Alfred thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't really have a clue as to what made Arthur react like this. He totally didn't understand why or why not to say something in case it sparked some old, um, feeling or emotions or shit like that. Come to think of it, Arthur probably didn't know much about what he was thinking at times either.

And, loathe as Alfred was to admit to any of his faults, this was creating a problem – a sort of separation from Arthur, whom, as of late, Alfred just couldn't seem to find the will to live without.

_Maybe we should just talk... Maybe…we…should…talk, talk, talk…_

Yeah! Get to the heart of things!

Before he really knew what he was doing, Alfred had strode around the corner of Arthur's quaint, cottage-like home and into the kitchen – thank god he hadn't tripped over the various pieces of furniture that seemed to jump out at him when he was least expecting it.

Arthur, of course, heard the lad's stomping feet unbelievably quickly and scrunched up his nose in (what couldn't have been) distaste (right?) Whatever it was, that simple, endearing movement always made Alfred want to touch that part of Arthur's face and maybe the rest of Arthur's face until his hands were trailing through Arthur's hair and down the nape of his neck...

His thoughts were cut off abruptly as Arthur squawked and jumped deftly out of the way, leaving Alfred to walk right into the cupboards behind him.

"Englaaaaaaaaand! You could've caught me..."

"And risk being steamrolled into a granite countertop? I think not, you git."

That snippety tone in Arthur's voice made Alfred remember why he had come over in the first place. The running-into-counter was kinda not planned, but whatever. It was cool.

There was a problem though. How the heck to bring this up?

When Alfred offered no more than his usual, cheeky grin, Arthur scoffed and turned back to preparing his daily dose of tea – Earl Gray with milk and lemon - refusing to pay the lad any more attention.

So Alfred was left to stand, flustered and scratching the back of his head. He kinda, sorta prided himself on being all spontaneous and awesome, but cursed his inability to form complete sentences whilst in the presence of Arthur.

Right. Arthur.

As said Nation strode away indignantly, Alfred hardened his resolve and followed after, swearing to swallow his pride just this once. 'Cause, he sure as hell wouldn't be doing this again. So Arthur had better appreciate it.

"So, uh, Arthur," America mumbled, switching to the more intimate use of England's 'real' name. "I was hoping that we could, um… y'know, _talk _or something."

Alfred winced as Arthur shot him a daggered look over his shoulder. Geeze…was everything he said a crime?

Arthur quit glaring at him for long enough to make himself comfortable on the white couch over-looking the meadow outside, careful not to spill a drop of his precious tea.

_(Alfred wondered if anyone else had ever been jealous of tea before, or if he was just crazy.) _

The younger Nation hesitated for a split second before lowering himself to sit beside Arthur, _ignoring _that look – he didn't need friggin' permission to sit beside his, um. His…well. His Arthur, right? Right.

And Alfred started blushing so furiously at his thought that even Arthur's steely look softened into one of concern coupled with curiosity. What could possibly be troubling the boy so?

Arthur offered no comfort, remembering at the last second that they were supposed to be fighting over something. Despite not remembering exactly what it was, Arthur kept a stiff upper lip and eyed Alfred squirming over the top of his tea cup. Alfred could do all the 'reaching out' or some such nonsense however much he liked, Arthur was perfectly able to sit and pretend to not listen.

Alfred inhaled deeply.

"So, I wanna talk about the Revolution."

Unless, of course he said something like that.

Of every foolish, unexpected, pointless, idiotic move Alfred could make, this was by far the worst. Did he really think discussing _this particular topic _over afternoon tea could possibly help with _any _insecurity he was feeling? Apparently he had done that long ago when his people started the whole bloody thing in the first place.

These thoughts whirled through Arthur's head at a mile a minute. He shot one seething look over his shoulder at Alfred's foolishly hopeful face and squared his shoulders, vowing not to storm out of the room like a child – as Alfred would have done, had the roles been reversed – but to take this ridiculous outburst like a gentleman – to set him straight once and for all that sensit- ah, _forgotten_ matters such as this should not be discussed so lightly.

Alfred visibly deflated at the stone cold expression now adorning Arthur's face.

"No, no wait, Arthur. Don't you see? This is exactly why I want to talk about it. I want to know why it is you do that - that head turn-y around, cold shoulder thing."

Arthur's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as he turned back to face Alfred, incredulous. He placed his tea cup on the small table in front of him, lest his shaking fingers betrayed him. Alfred all but wilted at the receiving end of Arthur's withering glare. But he was a hero, right? Surely he could find a way to make this all turn out...right?

"You left me, America." Each word dripped with unresolved emotion. You left me in the worse possible way, _America_." Said Nation cringed at the negative stress put on his name.

Silence reigned. Alfred slumped in his seat, hair covering his face. Arthur kept right on glaring, daring the boy to make a comeback.

"...I'm sorry."

And now Arthur was staring for an entirely different reason: surprise. Since when had Alfred ever apologized for anything?

Alfred raised his head and their gazes locked. He hesitated for a moment and took Arthur's hands in his.

"I'm so, so sorry. But I had to, Arthur." He tightened his grip as the older Nation tried to pull away. "I...I _felt _for you. I mean, I think I did. I was kind of confused back then, haha. But it just wasn't going to work if we stayed brothers, y'know? But then you went off to do your Empire thing-y and my plans sorta...backfired."

Alfred grimaced when Arthur made no move to respond.

"I know that was a dick move to make in order to get away, but... But you wouldn't let me go, Arthur."

Something seemed to flicker in Arthur's eyes and his mouth thinned into a very straight line. He broke eye contact with Alfred to look down at their hands, closely intertwined. He didn't really have the heart to brush them off anymore. "Oh, Alfred..."

Said Nation blinked in confusion and leaned forward, trying to catch his partner's eye.

"Hey... Why did you want to keep me so badly?" He decided to leave off the 'besides me being awesome' part.

He could see the internal struggle brewing in Arthur's mind. The battle between his pride and fairness. Alfred did tell him his point of view, after all.

After a long, harrowing thought process – all of which Alfred could see playing about on Arthur's face – the older Nation sighed and extracted his hands from Alfred's. He pushed himself slowly off the couch and walked though the doorway, leaving both his tea and an anxious Nation behind him.

I I I

_Gunfire. So much, too much gunfire. Every shot intermingled ferociously with the reds and the blues and the whites. And the fear, oh god, the fear. It all but radiated off of the soldiers, each one fighting for something they love, or loved, or could love. _

_But the pain and the sorrow and the sheer, overwhelming emotion was doubled, no, tripled for the Nations battling alongside their boys._

_British America hated him, he did, he did – there was definitely no denying it. It had finally come to this, and, if given the chance, he would totally shoot his caretaker down...duh! He would... He would show him exactly what it means to mess with, um...with..._

_A shriek of pain ripped through the rain and the Colony's head whipped around, searching – positive that voice had belonged to – no! No, why did he care, he didn't care – he...he hated the bastard!_

_Cannon fire – his ears were ringing, his head was ringing, and he was so confused..._

_Ringing...!_

I I I

It was with a strangled cry that let Arthur know that Alfred had finally surfaced from his nightmare he had been trying to wake him from. Ye, Gods... He knew nothing good could come about after a discussion such as theirs earlier that day. This boy...

He squeezed the hand he had been holding for a quarter of an hour previous and hesitantly placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, said Nation trying to deepen his erratic breathing. He really hadn't known that the...past affected Alfred in this way - that it still lingered with such negativity.

Alfred's gasps had slowly quieted and Arthur frowned at the uncharacteristically morose look plastered to the lad's face.

"Are you alright, my darling?"

Quiet filled the dark bedroom as Alfred thought. And Arthur tried not to worry himself too much over the over-elongated lack of noise. Then Alfred spoke.

"Why won't you tell me why you didn't let me go?"

Arthur sighed - a long, laborious sigh and ran his thumb up and down the side of Alfred's large hand. He swallowed. His tongue felt thick and heavy.

"I...well, it's depressing, Alfred, and not really something I wish to dwell on."

Arthur closed his eyes when he felt Alfred stiffen up beside him. Oh for the love of... What now?

"So then...what did I do it all for? You...you held on to me so, so _tightly_, Artie. What the _hell_ for? Why did you make me work so hard to get away from you?"

Arthur heard this and cursed softly under his breath. Seldom times had he ever heard such seriousness coming from the one and only troublemaker, his Alfred. But if he told him, then, surely he would laugh or jibe, right? Since when did Alfred ever ask anything out of sheer curiosity and not for personal gain? But for such a subject as this...was he really being genuine?

The hesitance seemed to hit a nerve somewhere in the seemingly untouchable Nation that was America. He turned his head slowly to face Arthur's, a wild desperation lit in the depths of his eyes.

"Was it me? God, there had better be a damn good reason why you held onto me so tightly, Arthur. A damn good reason why I had to fight so hard to get out. _What was it?"_

Arthur took his hand off of America's shoulder, torn between just spitting it out and letting his pride belittle him, yet again. Wait...did the poor boy think all this was his fault? Part of it was, certainly, but the entire Revolution? Surely not...

Arthur tried to stutter out a plausible response - anything to stall for more time.

"I, I – America..."

"Alfred," the younger Nation whispered. "I'm Alfred, haha." He leaned in even closer, breath hot and mixing with Arthur's. "Just tell me. I hafta know. ...Please."

And Arthur's pride snapped clean in half. He gripped Alfred's – his Alfred's – hand all the tighter and fought to keep his voice at a steady, if not acceptable volume level.

"You were the only one who _cared_, Alfred – do you not see?"

Now that he had Alfred's rapt attention, Arthur's volume level dropped significantly – the merest whisper of whispers.

"Out of every single Nation, and human existent, you were the only one who...who, ah, loved me - for some unfathomable reason. It...It meant the world to me, lad, knowing that you didn't judge, or harass, or hate on. You were..." Here Arthur struggled to form the words. "You were my, oh dear, my everything, Alfred. And... And I just couldn't bear to be parted from the gem that I had found. The gem who accepted me, of all people – as if I were your, ah, hero..."

He coughed into his hand.

"So. Now you know. Just...don't expect a speech like that all the time, you hear?"

Alfred blinked and looked down at the bed sheets lightly covering both of their lower bodies.

"Geeze, Arthur... I, uh, didn't know."

The older Nation scoffed and turned his head. "Well, of course you didn't. I've had a long time to perfect my ability to hide what I feel. It's easier that way."

Alfred lifted his head and looked sideways at Arthur, but not making eye contact.

"Except when it counts, right?"

Arthur frowned at the sheets and, feeling Alfred's eyes on him, turned to meet them, not expecting the soft twinkle nestled in his irises, nor the accompanying smile, even softer.

"I... Pardon?"

"'Cause it counts now, right? You don't own me, and I'm not running from you. We're both equals and we both..." Pause. Swallow. "We both love each other, right? So it counts now. And that crazy stuff is all behind us!"

Arthur still found enough wit lingering inside his roiling stream of emotions to roll his eyes at his partner and stutter out, "O-Oh yes, lad. _Right_ behind us."

Alfred loosened Arthur's grip on his hand so he could intertwine their fingers more closely together.

"Hey, man. Look how awesomely we worked it all out! You should be happy I started all of this. Otherwise, you'd be hiding your emotions for who knows how long?"

Arthur closed his eyes for a short moment (short, long, indescribably memorable) and when he opened them again he could feel the small smile transforming his face.

"I am happy. Thank you, Alfred."

He lifted their hands, their connection (as they should always be connected) and placed a kiss, soft as a butterfly's breath to Alfred's knuckles, stifling a laugh as Alfred, impatient as always, pressed a hand under his chin to lay claim to his lips instead.

_AN - Haha, yay - USUK! So... Sorry that it's Revolutionary War heavy, but... When you have a story idea, it's pretty hard to get rid of. :P You guys know what I mean. Seychelles should be updated tomorrow, by the way. :) Thanks for reading! And sorry for the long wait. The site is being stupid and all error-y. Bear with me! :)_

_EDIT - To the reviewer who took the time make that lengthy comment - thank you so much! I don't know how else to contact/reply to you, but I really want to so...hopefully you'll see this. I agree with you! Oh my goodness, so much do I agree. I was actually sort of grimacing in shame when I wrote that part. But I did for a (not really excusable) reason. It's a small little one-shot/drabble. I'm not going to go do research and/or add in a whole bunch of extra stuff for a little thing like this. If I were writing a chapter fic, I would either not include the Revolution (see Swaying Surprises. ;) ) or I would plan it out. My brain was like - USUK, Revolution, GOWRITE! And... this came up. :\ But thank you very much for the compliment and for taking the time to write that review! Hope you get this!_


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